The Fine Line Between Locks and Fingers
by ClaireDove
Summary: If you can' t work through the knots on your own, call a friend.


"The Fine Line Between Locks and Fingers"

* * *

It had been a long time since she'd last seen herself in a mirror. She could barely remember when. Looking at her own dull face now urged her to remember. Maybe... maybe it was in the old abandoned palace the day she met Vlad and Dimitri. Or maybe... or maybe... Oh, okay, _forget it_! She tried not to blame herself for not remembering. That happened so much in her life that she's got used to it. Something - that could be a word, a smell, a sound, a taste - triggered a mysterious button, and there she was, so close to the core of the matter she could already see colors and shapes forming in her fragile mind until... _nothing_. Again. She knew the very name of that: memory.

Or lack of it...

When she was twelve, she started forcing herself to remember small things, as her own little secret exercise. She used to pick harmless things like dates of no importance to remember. May 16th: Oleg, the littlest orphan, a boy with inquisitive dark eyes and wild messed up hair, asked grown up Anya about how babies were made. She felt her face twitch into something that could be arguably laughable, but the little boy remained impassive, silently awaiting for what turned out to be her disappointing "I don't know". In fact, Anya half knew the answer thanks to witch Comrade Plegmenhoff who someday decided to spill the beans to Anya and another teenaged orphan girl in order to prevent "any case of pregnancy in my reputable orphanage". Anya had never blushed that hard, and the way Plegmenhoff described the baby making prompted her to swear she would never ever do that - perhaps scaring was the old woman's perverse strategy to avoid undesirable new kids in the house, Anya thought a few years later.

She had more than fifty dates in her collection, twenty of them recently acquired. She was she was improving. Not recalling when she last saw her reflection in a mirror wasn't that bad, she conceded. Earlier Vlad praised her for knowing by heart so many facts and names from Anastasia's past. That was it. Her mind was so busy with all that learning she couldn't focus on unimportant things like a mirror...

March 18th: she built a fire with Vlad and Dimitri. March 29th: she learned a new swear word from Dimitri. April 1st: Vlad danced with himself and blew kisses to oak trees. April 9th: Pooka peed on Dimitri's shoes. April 10th: Dimitri caught a cold. April 11th: Vlad made his "special flawless remedy" for Dimitri. April 13th: she saw a green bird. April 14th: she sang an old Russian traditional song along with Vlad and Dimitri.

A sigh of relieve. _She still remembered!_

Everything was fine then. Or most of it. Paris was becoming each day closer and closer. She could feel that with the boat's motion under her feet. Only five days more and the journey would be complete. She felt unexpectedly discontented. Something similar to angst tightened her heart and lungs. _A grand-duchess_! How crazy! Was it that she saw in the mirror? A grand-duchess? No, certainly not. Her skin was covered with dirt, her eyes framed with dark circles. Her hair was a filthy mess.

Well, she was left alone in the tiny cabin to fix that after all. She spent a few minutes trying to decide what to start with. _Well, the worst part, the skin._

She took what seemed an eternity to brush all the dirt off of her skin. At the end, her body was so red from rubbing she laughed at herself. _For happy drunken nights' sake_! And with that she recalled April 27th, when she drank wine from Dimitri's half empty glass. She couldn't tell how that happened - for she was probably as drunk as old uncle Vanya in his heydays - but the moment she closed her heavy eyes the glass' cold borders became Dimitri's lips and...

...she kissed them.

When her eyes reopened they found the real, drunk, sleepy Dimitri and his funny dazzled expression.

"Are you... _kissing the glass"?_

She let a wide smile spread across her now clean face; however when she pulled a lock of her thick long hair with a wooden comb it hurt so much she even shed a tear, a shy, small tear in the corner of her eye. She hadn't combed her hair in months. The knots were impossible to work through. Unless...unless...she needed some help, of course!

* * *

Dimitri's surprised face when she appeared at the deck and asked him for help would amuse Anya if she wasn't so excited and nervous with the prospect of having him combing her hair.

If felt a little awkward to be alone with him in the cabin. They didn't say a word. Dimitri seemed deeply committed with the task of undoing her hair complicated knots. Anya could tell how hard he was trying not to hurt her. Of course it happened sometimes; however Anya didn't complain. From time to time, she pinched herself so she could hold the pain better. At a certain time, a loud gasp threatened to come out, but she bravely managed to keep it inside. Although she didn't express her small suffering, Dimitri knew that wasn't being easy for her. "Are you sure it isn't hurting?" he asked almost every minute. And every word he said was full of concern, real, honest, _irresistible_ concern. Her head and belly and thighs were tingling. She would reply with a weak, unconvincing "no".

As time went by, the knots became looser. "Uh, I'm really good at it"!, Dimitri exclaimed once, his voice full with satisfaction. Anya's comment was simply a low grunt. She had fallen under his spell. Feeling his fingers up and down her hair felt so pleasant she couldn't help but giving herself away completely. Once in a while she even permitted herself to let out little sighs of contentment. Her heartbeat was calm and her body warm. She was feeling wonderful, she swore she could reach something impossible, and then…"Hey, it's almost done"!

With that the spell was broken.

"Already"? - her voice was low and sweet. She shifted her position to see Dimitri better.

"For God's sake! Anya! We've been here for more than an hour"! - he tried to sound humorous.

"Hum..." - Anya couldn´t think of a witty retort.

Warm silence filled the room.

"It probably hurt a lot, didn't it"? - Dimitri's voice was soft and husky.

"Not really".

"Then you´re _very_ strong. I would´ve cried my lungs out of me".

Anya laughed genuinely and Dimitri followed her.

"You are, too. It wasn't easy task".

"No, surely it wasn´t".

They laughed again. Anya thanked him with her best face.

"Well, thank you very much then".

"What? We aren't done yet"! He said half seriously half mockingly.

"No"? - she was really confused.

"I said we're _almost_ done. It isn´t right yet".

So Dimitri put the comb on the simple vanity table and his fingers entwined her red locks. They slipped throughout her hair, once, twice, three times. Anya's whole body responded to what he was doing. Her eyes closed.

 _April 29th : Dimitri's hands stayed on hers for almost thirty seconds._

 _April 30th : Dimitri bathed in a lake and called her in._

 _May 1st : Dimitri called her "crazy little brat"._

 _May 2nd :Dimitri found a coin on the road and gave that to her._

 _May 3rd : Dimitri told her a dirty joke._

 _May 4th : Dimitri slept next to her._

 _May 5th : Dimitri climbed a tree, seized apples and hurled them to her._

 _May 6th : Dimitri taught her how to climb trees._

 _May 7th : Dimitri told her a secret._

 _May 8th :Dimitri's lips stayed on her hand for more than three seconds._

 _May 9th : Dimitri combed her hair._

 _What happens next?_ She was dying to know. That was going to be a big, big collection.

* * *

 **Hey, hey, hey! What did you think about this little piece of fluff?**

 **Well, hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did writing it! XOXO**

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